Fourteen

I DON’T KNOW if they intentionally situated an art school near an art supply store or if the store saw a ready market and opened nearby. I know the store has been there a long time and I was a frequent customer. Most of my student loan probably found its way into their cash register. I justified it by saying it was all an investment in my future career, so I didn’t buy cheap stuff. I’d watched Doc Henredon painting for long enough to identify the kinds of brushes he used and I walked out of the store with one hog bristle and three sable brushes and about $120 poorer. I ran by the dorm and picked up my art box and sketchbook as well. I didn’t buy brushes that I already had.

It was nearly six o’clock when I got back to the hall and before I’d set up to start painting, I heard the soft chime of Doc’s cell phone alarm.

“Let’s take a break,” he said after a couple of minutes spent finishing a stroke. About two minutes later a pizza delivery guy showed up with three boxes and a carton of Cokes. We all dug in and Doc asked to see the brushes I’d brought back. He nodded his approval and gave me a couple of tips about how to use each one. He wasn’t at all upset that I hadn’t started putting paint on the wall yet and walked over to look at the adjustments I’d made on the sketch.

“This is good. Is she really that beautiful?” I was surprised by the question.

“Yes, sir. I mean you saw her when you did the rendering, right? She’s incredible.”

“No. If I’d seen her, I’d have fallen in love. I used one of your sketches that Professor McIntyre gave me to put in the pose.”

I was a little startled. I thought he’d stepped into the studio while I was sketching and did a sketch as well. I would never have known.

“Kate, I need the scale drawing,” Doc called. I was closer, but Kate came from one end of the hall to the other to walk past us and pick up the drawing about ten feet away. She had a scowl on her face as Doc turned before she got back and walked back to where I’d been working. I heard a bit of a huffy sigh behind me as Kate followed along. Robert was totally absorbed in a phone conversation down the hall, but when he saw the three of us walking toward him he hung up and came to meet us. Doc took the sketch from Kate.

“My god! Look what you did to this sketch!” Doc yelled. All three of us jumped back from him. I started to apologize but he waved me to silence. “Look! All three of you. Here is the drawing I did based on Tony’s original sketch. It’s a generation removed from the original. Look at what he has drawn on the wall. This is what ‘an artist falling in love with his model’ means.”

“Tony?” Kate looked at me strangely.

“Yes, yes,” Doc said. “I did not draw from the model. I drew from his sketch. My drawing is technically correct but lifeless. Tony has drawn this model and I would guess has even painted her.” I nodded. “Look at the eyes. It is not only how the artist sees the model; it is how she sees him.”

All three of us just stood there staring. I think Doc was giving me a compliment. Kate was sneaking sidelong glances over at me and then up at the sketch on the wall. I’m not sure Robert had tuned into the fact that Doc was speaking. It wouldn’t surprise me to find out he was high.

“Tony, don’t paint her tonight. It’s no good to start right after you’ve been praised or criticized. I hate doing it myself. Someone comes up and talks about all the wonderful things I’ve done and I can’t paint a single decent stroke afterward. Spend a couple of hours doing drapery. Learn how your brushes feel and the texture of the paint. Come back tomorrow morning and start fresh on your lover.” This was really freaky. Could he possibly know that Lissa was one of my two very precious girlfriends? Or was he just talking about the metaphysical connection between artist and model.

“Um ... call said noon tomorrow.”

“If you prefer. It is Sunday. This is my sanctuary. I will be here at 8:00. Come when you wish.”